


No Dress Code: E - L - I

by GuileandGall



Series: No Dress Code [27]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Dancing and Singing, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Flirting, Kissing, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 12:11:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13213494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: Eli’s accent isn’t as easy for everyone to understand, which leads to a frustrating moment in a coffee shop for the rock star that he turns into another opportunity to try and get Furia to sing.





	No Dress Code: E - L - I

**Author's Note:**

> Close sent me this the other day: Not a starter, but I keep giggling and imagining the situation around Domestic AU Eli saying: “All I was doing was helping the barista learn to spell my name properly. The song and dance should NOT have gotten you that embarrassed.” And after inquiring a little further about the idea that popped in her head, I couldn’t stop thinking about it either. So, this happened.

Furia never really knew how she and Eli ended up in spots like this, but she couldn’t help laughing as he perched carefully on her lap in the one open chair in the entire cafe. It seemed strange that the place should still be at capacity at mid-morning. The morning rush should have passed through already and the lunch patrons still a few hours off. Full of dark wood and leather furniture, it was a cozy establishment downtown. The pungent aroma of roasting coffee suggested that this cafe might roast their own beans.

When a college-aged kid vacated a leather armchair, Furia had slipped into it and before she could even cross her legs, Eli dropped onto her lap, draping his arm over her shoulders.

“Well, aren’t you slick?” she said, her hand going to his back out of instinct.

“Of course, I am.”

“And why are you in my lap?”

“I’m pretty sure that blue-eyed bloke in the suit might object if I sat in his,” Eli said, pointing across the little seating area in the window alcove.

“You never can tell. He might be into tattoos.”

“True,” he leaned closer, his voice breathy in her ear. “But would he let me do this?” His teeth captured her earlobe and tugged at it gently. Then his mouth moved down her neck. “Or this.”

Furia’s quiet hum surely wouldn’t be heard by anyone besides just the two of them. Of course, he was the only person she wanted to hear it. Eli guided her mouth to his for a long, hot kiss. When he broke it, she giggled. He insisted on exacerbating them, sweeping her hair away from that side of her neck and pressing kisses along the side of her face until he got to her earlobe once more.

The wait for their drinks flew by in amused flirtation. Sure, a few people stared, they always did. Eli drew attention, not just because of his notoriety, but it was hard to miss a 6’3” broad shouldered man with wavy purple locks, a veritable cornucopia of tattoos, and mesmerizing sea-colored eyes. Even if he wasn’t sitting in her lap, making her bite her lip to keep from moaning, he’d have been the most remarkable character in the corner coffee shop.

“I have a Cubano for Furia,” a young woman’s voice called over the din of the place.

Furia didn’t move, her hand dipped under his shirt and skimmed of his abs. She knew he wouldn’t budge until they called out his order. When he bit her ear sharply, her nails dug into his hip. Eli hissed in her ear, then shifted to press his forehead against hers. His eyes smoldered in a way that made her wish they were anywhere else.

Despite that desire, she knew there was nothing for it. Ducking into the coffee shop, merely served as a time sink. Eli’s meeting with his record label was not an appointment they could skip out on to satiate either of their libidos. Even with him looking at her like sex on legs, their itinerary wouldn’t deviate.

“You know, my coffee’s getting cold,” Furia teased.

Eli tipped his head to the side, kissing her deeply. “You know I’ll keep you warmer than that cup,” Eli replied, his finger tracing over her collarbone.

“Don’t I know it.”

“A red velvet hot chocolate, extra chocolate for …”

Before they even read the name, Eli straightened in her lap. His attention always could shift on a dime. He froze when they said it again, “Eloi?”

“Bollocks.” The tone in his voice dripped with annoyance. He stood up like a shot, and sauntered over to the counter. “Oi!” He waited for the barista’s attention to turn to him. He showed her the cup and pointed at the misspelling. “It’s Eli,” he said, his accent thickening just enough to make it sound exactly how they pronounced it.

“Yeah. That’s what it says, pal.”

He looked at the cup and turned it. “What? They don’t teach you how to spell here?”

“Eli,” Furia said, attempting to intercede. She hooked one hand around his arm, grasping him just above the elbow, while the other smoothed down his forearm.

“No, seriously.” His aqua eyes moved from his lover back to the young woman. “You can spell Furia, and Michael and all these other blokes, but Eli stumps ya? Maybe I should sing it for you?”

“You’ve got your chocolate.” Furia’s hand slipped into his. “Let’s just go.”

The barista chuckled at him. “Maybe you should, pretty boy.”

Never one to back down from a challenge that was all the encouragement he needed, and Furia knew it. She sighed when he squeezed her hand back.

“Oh, believe me, I will.” He cleared his throat a moment, taking a sip from his cup with the misspelled name. The content hum clearly denoted that the young woman made his drink to his liking, ultra-sweet and extra chocolatey.

When he started singing, Furia’s brow furrowed as she looked up at him. He gave her a wink and a bit of a smirk as he sang, “E-li, E - L - I.”

Furia quickly leaned her elbow on the counter and pressed her knuckles to her mouth; she recognized the tune immediately. It seemed he’d rewritten _All I Have to Do Is Dream_ by the Everly Brothers into an elaborate spelling song, all on the fly. While her smile couldn’t be hidden any longer, her hand near her mouth was meant to stop her from laughing.

“E-li, E - L - I / When you want me in your arms,” he continued with a grin. Then he grabbed Furia and pulled her against him, stepping away from the counter. “When you want me and all my charms—” that got a laugh out of his dance partner “—Whenever you want me, all you have to do is / Screa-ea-ea-ea-eam, E- L- I.”

For the last line, his gaze moved past her shoulder to the barista. Then his eyes were on Furia again, his hips swaying against hers. “Sing with me, love.”

“Not a chance,” Furia replied. She moved with him, it was rare that she got him to dance with her, so she took full advantage of it.

“When you feel blue in the night / And you need me to hold you tight / Whenever you want me, all you have to do is / Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam.”

The rest of the crowd in the shop got in on the act, a few of them humming and singing along. The others entreated her, “C’mon, sing with the guy.”

“I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine.” Eli stole a quick peck, making her grin and laugh at the honesty in his made up little tune. “Anytime night or day / Only trouble is, my love / We’re dreamin' our lives away,” Eli crooned. His hand slipped behind her neck and brought her forehead to his for a moment.

“Are you quite done?” Furia asked, grinning widely. Her arms draped over his shoulders and hands clasped loosely behind his neck. Eli sang to her every once and a while, but never like this, never in front of a crowd of strangers with her in his arms. No, these sorts of displays were usually at home, one-on-one.

“Not until you sing with me,” he insisted, pressing another quick kiss to his lips. He straightened enough that she couldn’t reach his lips to quiet him.

Eli didn’t lie—about anything. He’d continue singing this silly rendition until she sang with him. Furia hated her singing voice, found it barely passable and that, in her opinion, was being generous. Eli’s opinion differed, and he often tried to coax her into a song. This, however, was the first time he’d opted for public blackmail.

“You need me so bad you could cry / You love me so and that is why / Whenever you want me, all you have to do is / Screa-ea-ea-ea-eam,” he sang.

Then Furia pulled a face, narrowing her eyes at him in mock ferociousness, and reluctantly joined him, “E - L - I / E-li, E - L - I.”

The crowd cheered his little victory, though Furia knew that just meant Eli would be even more insufferable. Judging by the grin on his face, one might have thought he’d just won some kind of award, and she was almost certain he’d pull something like this again. With the last letter sung, he ended his tune abruptly as his mouth crashed against hers.

The crowd continued his chorus a bit: “E - L - I / E-li, E - L - I.”

Breaking the kiss, his arm slid over her shoulders and he led them back to the counter to grab their cups. The barista handed Eli his, making a point to turn the cup to show she’d written his name correctly on this one.

“Nice song,” she said.

“I know,” Eli replied. Despite the misspelling, he dug a crumpled bill out of his pocket and stuffed the twenty in the tip jar.

With a laugh, Furia pressed her shoulder into his ribs. “Vámanos, cabrón. We’re probably late now,” she scolded gently as she picked up her cup, blowing across the hole in the lid before taking a sip.

“Well, that’s your fault,” Eli replied, raising his cup to his lips as they exited the shop.

“My fault? You’re the one who needed to put on the impromptu performance.”

“All I was doing was helping the barista learn to spell my name properly.”

Furia shot him an incredulous look. “In the most embarrassing manner possible.”

“The song and dance should _not_ have gotten you that embarrassed,” he insisted.

“It wasn’t that. It was you refusing to stop until I sang.”

“You have the voice of—”

“A buzzard in its death throes.”

Eli stopped in his tracks. His hand on her cheek directed her hazel gaze to his, his voice took on a serious tone. “You have a beautiful voice, and I love to hear you sing.” He didn’t say anything for a moment, then admitted, “I listen in when you sing Javier to sleep.”

She stared at him, mouth hanging open in surprise. Furia truly had not known about that.

His thumb brushed her cheek. “I stay in the hall and listen, because every time I come in … you stop.” His look seemed almost stricken, sad at that fact.

Furia’s eyes welled almost instantly. She had no idea that quirk affected him in the slightest. “I … I …”

“I know you don’t like your voice, but I assure you, Javier likes it, and I love it. I just wish you wouldn’t hide it, especially from me. I love you, Sol. And even if you sang like a banshee straight out of hell, I’d adore it. I’d tell you so, but I’d still want to hear it.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and started walking again. Furia wrapped her arm around his bicep and leaned her head against his shoulder. “No one ever wanted to hear me sing. I only ever heard how bad my voice was, how Socorro sang like an angel, and I should stick to what I was good at.”

“I know. But screw other people and their opinions.”

“Even back there, singing with you, I sounded so horrible.”

Eli looked at her again, his empty hand coming to lift her chin. “It wasn’t about what you sounded like, though you were a little flat,” he told her with a short laugh. Furia tried to jab him in the ribs, but it only mildly succeeded. His leather jacket acted like armor to her prodding. “I wanted you to sing with me, that’s all. No expectation of greatness. Just your voice with mine.”

The corner of her mouth twitched a little it wasn’t a smile, though it should have been. His revelation that he just wanted her to sing with him, made her feel like a colossal prick for refusing so stubbornly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just sing with me the next time I ask, and maybe the next time I come into the nursery, don’t stop.”

Furia nodded, her feint smile reaching her eyes. Eli pressed a kiss to her temple, then started humming his song as they walked. After taking a sip of her own coffee, she added a soft, “E-L-I,” in the appropriate place, which prompted him to free his arm to wind it around her waist and pull her closer.

Oblivious to the other pedestrians on the sidewalk, the couple danced the last half a block with him singing in her ear, while she joined in on the chorus. At the door to building, Eli dipped her, pressing a quick kiss to the divot at the base of her throat before pulling her back upright and opening the door for her.


End file.
